Warriors of Chaos: Desperation
by Spidermite
Summary: The Mist, Sea-Storm, Hecate, The Primordials. Four Problems that are close to crushing the Warriors and Demi-Gods. How ever, when they are forced to accept the least likely help, they realize just how desperate they are
1. Prolouge

**Prologue - πρόλογος**

**Three Prisoners – τρεις Κρατούμενοι**

**Two Years, One Hundred and Twenty Seven Days**

Even after a year, it was still humiliating. She was a powerful Goddess generally respected and feared by all that knew her. Being trapped in an inky black void, hands and legs permanently bound to the wall and occasionally beaten was not the sort of treatment that a powerful Goddess of Magic should be receiving. Hecate mused. She could feel her life energy draining away. That was the effect of being in the Void. It was a deity's version of Hell. Simply standing there was hurting her, her not quite DNA being unravelled. It made her feel more and more tired every – what, day? She was finding it hard to tell time now. That had to be a bad sign.

Suddenly and not for the first time in the last year, anger flared. It was ridiculous. She _SHOULDN'T _ be here. She had done nothing. What she SHOULD be doing is burning impudent monsters with her torches and taking care of the Mist. Although, on the bright side at least it was a Primordial force of creatures that had captured as appose to foolishness that had ended up with Artemis's capture by the Titan's.

She wasn't stupid. Hecate knew why she had been taken; without her, the Mist was going to collapse. Checking her link with the Mist, she could tell that it would collapse in exactly Twenty thousand, five hundred and seventy-nine point six two five hours. Surprising, how precise and accurate it was, even in the Void. It was a sign that some of her Powers were remaining. Good, it appeared that things weren't completely hopeless.

Hecate stretched out her Godly senses. Almost immediately, her mind was nearly blown to shreds from the sheer amount of pent up rage that was occupying the space near her. The Primordial's and their lackeys, after millennia stuck in the Void. Sometimes she wondered if Chaos had been too harsh, too judgmental. In the end, it didn't matter especially; she was here in Hell and that was all that _did_ matter. Stuck in Hell alone. Forever.

Something in the air changed suddenly and Hecate threw her head back in pain. Then it was over. It had lasted less than a minute. Hecate shook her head to clear it. Then she froze. Turning her head slowly to the right she looked at her hand clamped to the wall. It was wrinkled thin and frail looking, as if it would fall apart by simply looking at it too hard. She willed herself to change back into her normal, younger looking form. Nothing happened. Her immortality was failing fast. She was fading quickly.

What was that? Her senses had found something that wasn't just rage. Someone was scared. Another Primordial prisoner, probably one of those Chaos Warriors that she had heard about last year.

_Why were they still alive? Oh, of course. Bait. The Primordial's must want to lure someone to the Void._ Hecate realised. Then she made a decision; she was going to try to help this person. She normally didn't do things like this, but if that prisoner had been chosen by Chaos itself, then they were worthy of Hecate's help. And, if they were mortal, then Hecate respected them even more for surviving the Void. But they shouldn't be here. No mortal should. Hecate was going to help this person escape.

The Underworld sucked. So did being constantly electrocuted, but that was by the by.

What really annoyed Jake Ladris was that he should have been out of here by now. They guy in the black suit had said so; if Jake helped the Warriors defeat the Primordial's , his former bosses, then he would be placed in Asphodel field. It had been made clear that he would never be put into Elysium. It had also been made clear that if he betrayed the agreement and tried to harm the Warriors he would be slowly atomised and trapped in Tartarus for all eternity.

Obviously Jake had agreed to this deal. It was basically supernatural prison parole. Except it hadn't happened yet. Which was supremely annoying. As it would be for anyone in his position. Like having a really good milkshake place right in front of you when you were in a straight jacket. Tantalising and untouchable. Worst combination in the universe.

He resigned himself to the obvious fact that he had been screwed over. No one was coming for him even if they could, especially if they knew him. He tended to have a habit of turning against people and when you couple that with near immortality and next to unlimited strength, then that isn't the kind of person you would want on your team. Jake thought that perhaps he was being treated a little unfairly; it wasn't as if he had tried to commit genocide or destroy a pantheon of Gods. _Oh wait._ He realised as that was more or less what he had tried to do by helping the Primordial's and trying to kill everybody inside Camp-Half-Blood. So, on reflection, he was being treated perfectly fairly after all. But everybody deserved a do-over, didn't they? Jake certainly hoped so. Had he not earned parole after being fried by electricity for over a year straight?

"No. You haven't."

Jake looked up, startled. The guy in the black suit was there. Finally.

"You haven't earned anything. But, be that as it may, your assistance is required. But first; here." The guy thrust his hand forward, punching through Jake's chest, who promptly collapsed to the ground. His skin and organs re-grew, repairing the damage.

His skin. His organs. He was alive again.

The guy spoke again. "I could have just snapped my fingers, but punching through your chest made me feel better." The guy pointed his left index finger straight ahead. "Start walking that way and keep straight, even if there is a wall in front of you. You'll get where and when you need to in time."

Jake started walking.

The Void was still not a fun place. That hadn't changed in the past year. Neither had the semi-regular beatings or weekly tournaments where she was forced to fight bare handed against new monsters of the Primordial's creation, each more powerful than the last. At the end of each she was left barely breathing. And then she was healed. The Primordial Gods needed to keep Sea-Storm (real name Samantha Jennings) alive after all. Other wise, Ira, her boyfriend, wouldn't come and rescue her. In other words, life had been pretty terrible for Sea-Storm.

She still believed that he was coming. She knew it couldn't be easy to find an entrance to the Void. She just whished Ira would perhaps hurry up a bit. Selfish? Maybe. But her fatal flaw wasn't personal loyalty. If anything it was that she got angry too quickly.

Sea-Storm was permanently scared these days; scared of the Primordial's, of the Void, which probably should have killed her by now, of what was going to happen to Ira once he got here. Always scared.

Always.

She wasn't the only one here though. Hecate was here as well. The Goddess had contacted Sea-Storm telepathically. She said that she was going to broadcast her magical energy like a radio wave for her friends to pick up back on Earth. She just had to wait a few more days, perhaps a week. Maybe two.

Or three.

Or four.


	2. Lake Michigan

**Two Years, One Hundred and Twenty Six Days**

Ira grunted as he was thrown backwards by a Drakon. He crashed into a bin and went tumbling along the ground. He picked himself up and popped out his two swords; one bronze, one gold, each with a hollow diamond set in the centre that was filled with Chaos energy. Ira pressed one of the buttons on his right sword and its form shifted and changed until he was holding a golden trident. The Drakon roared and spat out acid, which Ira dived out of the way. He scowled. He didn't have time for this. He pressed the other button on his trident and trident crackled and was covered in a sheet of chaos energy.

Ira leaped forwards, rolled to the left when the Drakon tried to bite him, and then jumped when the beasts head hit the ground. He wobbled, managing to keep his balance on the oversized snake and shoved his trident into the Drakons' left eye with both hands. The chaos energy shot into the eye, travelled through the body and obliterated it at the cellular level. The creature wasn't sent to Tartarus. It didn't have a proper soul to keep it tethered to the Earth. The Drakon was forced to fade. Gone forever.

Ira fell the short distance to the ground an landed on one knee, sending a tingling sensation through his right leg. Well, that was one obstacle taken care of. On with the job. Ira, as the improvised leader of this small faction of the Warriors, had decided to send out very small parties to get any and all information on the activities of the Primordial Gods.

After millennia of being trapped in the void – the realm that Gods and other full immortals went to when they faded (the immortal equivalent of dying) – they had started to awaken and were trying to escape. This, naturally, would lead to all sorts of natural and not so natural disasters occurring.

Ira also had a personal stake in this affair. A little over a year ago, an agent of the Primordial's had sent Ira's girlfriend Sea-Storm to the Void for Chaos knows what kind of treatment. So, as well as trying to get information on the Primordial's, Ira was also looking for information on what was happening to Sea-Storm and how to get into the Void. Most of his friends thought that this was a suicide mission, but anybody that said that usually ended up with a bloody nose.

The other reason that Ira had decided to send out these parties was that he had received a message from Chaos itself that if he sent out a group of parties to look for information, one of them would find an 'unexpected ally'. Ira hated vague messages like that. Granted it was better than most, but would it really be so hard to actually tell them the name of this 'unexpected ally'?

Ira sighed. He had been getting progressively more aggressive and moody over the last year, getting more easily annoyed and angry.

On with the job. Ira was somewhere in the middle of Michigan, some where near Lake Michigan, relatively speaking. What people didn't realise about Lake Michigan was that it was one of the water spirits and deities favourite places to hang out, despite it being so murky you could hardly see a foot in front of your face when swimming underwater with clear goggles. Ira figured that it was as good a place as any to get info on the Primordial's; the water spirits would probably have some idea of what was going on with the Primordial's of the water, Hyros and Pontus. Ira would have asked Poseidon, but even though he was the God of the Seas, he had to stay above most of it all, just making sure that the tidal waves and Hurricanes didn't destroy the surface world. The lower level immortals weren't as strictly bound by ancient laws, not having as much power as the Olympians. They were slightly more grounded, so to speak.

Ira walked for about two hours, taking a short break at around an hour and a half. Once he got to the Lake front, he saw that a bunch of families were there for the afternoon or day. Closing his eyes and concentrating Ira snapped his fingers and the Mist rippled from them, shrouding from the eyes of mortals. He still had to move quickly though; with Hecate captured by the Primordial Gods, the Mist was collapsing and wasn't a hundred per cent reliable anymore.

Ira reached the edge of the lake and walked forwards. First his feet, then his legs, torso and finally head were submerged. Ira swam forward, and then willed the water currents to propel him faster towards the centre of the lake, the most likely place to find the water deities.

"Hello? Water Gods, Naiads?" Ira waited for a response. "Look, I know you're here somewhere. I'm not here to fight. I just want some information and then I'll be on my way."

Ira waited for about five minutes before a current rippled through the water and the form of an impish, slightly shy looking teenage girl shimmered into existence before him. She regarded him coolly. "Information?" she asked. Ira nodded.

"On the Primordial's; specifically Hydros and Pontus." The Naiad rushed forward and clamped her hand on his mouth.

"Don't say those names here!" she exclaimed. "Are you stupid?"

Ira took the Naiad's hand away from his mouth. "Sorry. You're right; it was stupid. But do you have information?"

"Yeah. Not much but, from what we sense down here," The Naiad paused, thinking over her next words carefully. "The old Sea-God will probably be one of the last of the Primordial's to emerge." She took a breath. "The other one you asked about though… he'll be one of the first. Possibly _the _first to arrive."

Ira was silent for a moment. "Thank you." He said slowly. "Thanks for your help." Ira turned around to leave, but the Naiad caught his shoulder.

"One last thing." The Naiad bit her lower lip nervously. "The Primordial that begins with 'H'. He's coming soon; as in, maybe this month." The Naiad started to wring her hands. "Oh, gods. We're all going to die, aren't we?"

"Look," Ira said, placing a hand on the Naiads shoulder. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. We're in a pretty bad way. But we'll do everything we can to stop the Primordial's, I promise. Okay?"

The Naiad nodded her head.

"Alright. Thanks for the info." Ira thanked, before turning around and racing towards to surface and bursting out of the lake in a shower of water, landing on the shore, rolling then standing up and brushing himself off. He walked swiftly on, ignoring the stares of mortals.

Ira walked along the road towards his pick up point. Whiplash was coming to pick him up in one of the ships after doing his own recon mission. Whiplash had managed to recover after the brutal, near fatal, beating that Jake Ladris had given him, thanks to the help of a bunch of the finest medics the Warriors and Demigods had to offer. Ira was making good progress when a loud cracking sound attracted his attention from behind. Ira turned around cautiously. The rocks at the side of the road had cracked and a figure was climbing up and out of the hole. Ira's eyes widened and he leapt forwards, his right arm shooting forward as his right hidden blade swivelled out. He plunged it and the clawed tips of his gauntlet fingers into the skull of Jake Ladris himself, sending him to the dusty ground.

Ira stood over Jake as his face healed. Jake heaved himself to his feet and quickly raised his hands when Ira started to move again.

"Whoa." Jake said. "That is no way to treat your new ally."

Despite the situation, Ira faltered. Involuntarily, a thought escaped from his brain and through his lips.

"That is total crap."

Jake smiled thinly. "That was more or less my reaction when I was offered this gig."

That got Ira's attention. "What do mean '_offered'_?" He demanded.

Jake shrugged. "I was just in Punishment, getting constantly fried by lightning when this creepy looking guy in a black suit stepped through this portal thing that randomly appeared."

Ira's shoulders sagged. "Oh, great. You got visited by Chaos itself."

Jake smiled again. "Cool. I always wondered what the big man himself looked like."

"Did he punch you through the chest?" Ira questioned. Jake nodded.

"Good. Then the Chaos mine should be implanted in your chest."

"What's that for?"

Ira's eyes sparkled. "Insurance."

Ira's wrist communicator beeped and Whiplash's voice drifted into Ira's ears; "Ira, where are you?"

"On the road." Ira paused for a moment. "Could you hone in on me? You are not going to believe this."

**AN/ Hi again. Sorry this took so long. But here's your chapter. As a favour though, could some of you head across to and look for my story 'Superpowered'? I'm under the same name, if you just search my name it's the only story of mine there and it hasn't got any reviews yet.**


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